


I had a hole in the place where my heart should have been

by ashintuku



Series: fox on the run [5]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Mild Language, Ravager Funeral, mentioned death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “...S’a Ravager funeral, boy,” he said after a moment, folding his arms over his stomach and crossing his ankles; legs outstretched in front of him. “So keep quiet and pay yer goddamn respects.”





	I had a hole in the place where my heart should have been

Squinting at the merc board, Yondu wrinkled his nose and swiped past the job being offered with a scoff. 

Even two years after being exiled, it was still difficult to find work that basic mercenaries wouldn’t compete with them for. Ravagers were a different kind of skill set; small armies, bounty hunters, bodyguards and escort work. They stole things for extra profit, but it was always somethin’ big. And every once in a while, they’d raid, because that was what they goddamn _did_. They weren’t _honourable_ – they were just picky as hell.

It was why there was a job board _specifically_ for Ravagers: when people wanted a Ravager crew, they posted _there_. Every other schmuck posted on general merc boards hopin’ to find someone willing to do their dumb and dirty work. 

Not, Yondu mused, that most of his new crew seemed to realize that the jobs they took really weren’t up to usual standard; over half of them being mercs themselves, lookin’ for a crew and a free meal and probably a way off of the damned rock they’d found themselves stuck on. The Centaurian snorted, tossing the datapad to the side and rubbing at his face slowly. 

It was then he noticed the light on his desk comm flashing. 

Starin’ at the light, he moved towards it slowly; hesitating only a moment before accepting the call. The window in front of his desk turned into a screen, then; the stars outside shifting over to a very familiar face. 

“...Tryin’ to have me gutted, Charlie?” 

Charlie-27 stared at him with his dark, dark eyes; brown skin almost bleached from the shoddy quality of the video comm link and unflattering lighting from his end. He still looked the same, though; big, sturdy, _there_. 

(He recalled the careful way he’d pried off the slave cuffs; how he’d forced open the cage door with his bare hands and grinned with bright, white teeth at a younger Yondu before helpin’ him to his feet. How he’d helped him limp out, because he’d been weak-limbed and half starved and crashing from an adrenaline shot given to him hours earlier. He remembered wonderin’ if this was what safety felt like.) 

“No, old friend,” Charlie-27 said, his voice a rumble even over audio. “Stakar won’t know I called you.” 

“Comfortin’.” 

“I wanted to tell you of something that has happened,” he continued; Yondu had forgotten how _formal_ the other man could sound sometimes. Not always, but when it was important. Yondu nodded, slowly sittin’ down in his seat; leaning back and foldin’ his hands over his stomach. “Is the Krylorian Oblo still a member of your crew?” 

“...Yeah,” Yonud nodded, scratching at his collar and narrowin’ his eyes, “yeah, he’s still here. Why?” 

“His brother returned to my ship, shortly after the exile.” 

Yondu remembered that; remembered that Oblo had had a younger brother who had followed him everywhere. How when he’d left the _Eclector_ , Yondu had told Oblo he should go follow him; but Oblo had shaken his head and said he wouldn’t, because he wasn’t going to abandon his captain. 

“Yeah, I know – he givin’ you trouble? ‘Cause I don’t know how t’deal with that, he’d always been Oblo’s problem.” 

“No, Yondu.” Charlie-27 shook his head, closing his eyes and sighin’. “We were hired on to help with a battle. Between Xandar and the Kree.” 

“If you tell me you helped the goddamn Kree, Charlie—”

“We helped the Xandarians. Their numbers had been low. They were a smaller squadron, guarding a smaller outpost, and they’d lost a lot of soldiers in a previous battle. Xandar could not send more troops on time; they hired us.” 

Yondu narrowed his eyes, but said nothin’; Charlie-27 continued. 

“We won the battle, but many of my crew died.” The Jovian looked pained when he said this; Yondu remembered that he’d always been a soft hearted son of a bitch, but it wasn’t such a bad thing. _His_ crew would try to tear him apart. They wouldn’t succeed, but they’d goddamn _try_. “Oblo’s brother was among the fallen.” 

“...Ah, shit.” 

Yondu stood up, turnin’ away from Charlie-27 for a moment to pace his room. He then stopped, turnin’ back to the comm. “Thanks fer lettin’ me know, Charlie.” 

“I have an offer,” Charlie-27 said, crossing his arms. Yondu eyed him, walkin’ up to the screen and tilting his head. “If you come to these co-ordinates, you and Oblo will find one of my M-ships docked. The funeral will take place on the other side of the planet.” Charlie-27 paused, then, lookin’ at Yondu with meaning. “...Oblo deserves to say goodbye.” 

He disconnected before Yondu could say anythin’ else, and the Centaurian blew out a breath; dropping his arms, hands on his hips and glarin’ out the window showing the stars again. He then pulled up the co-ordinates the other Ravager had given him, entering them onto a map and seein’ where exactly Charlie-27 was leadin’ him. 

He chewed the inside of his cheek. It _could_ be a trap – some new way to deal with Yondu, so he wasn’t runnin’ around anymore, doin’ shit that the other Ravagers would be disappointed in. Stakar could be ruthless; _had_ been ruthless in the past. It wasn’t totally impossible. 

But Charlie-27 had always been one of the more honest captains. 

He leaned over, pressin’ a button to connect to the bridge. 

“Who the hell’s flyin’ this rig?” 

“Me, Cap’n,” Kraglin’s voice sounded, and Yondu’s shoulders relaxed a little. 

“Good. Enter in these coordinates, and get the _Warbird_ ready. An’ tell Oblo to get his ass to the docking bay.” He paused, chewing on his cheek. “...get the kid, too.” 

“Yessir.” 

Yondu disconnected, eyeing the datapad on his bed. He then turned and left his quarters, lockin’ the door behind him and makin’ his way down the hall. 

He’d find a goddamn job later. 

~+~

They parked the _Eclector_ one jump away from the planet Charlie-27 had told him about, Yondu, Oblo and Quill all makin’ their way to the _Warbird_ where Kraglin stood waitin’. The first mate punched his chest in the salute as Yondu approached, stepping aside to let Yondu open the hatch. Oblo and Quill went into the ship; Oblo confused and Quill curiously lookin’ around. Yondu then turned to Kraglin. 

“We’ll be gone a few hours. Comms silent, don’t fuckin’ bother us. Get these d’ast idiots to clean the whole ship or somethin’, I don’t want ‘im lazin’ about and thinkin’ about how they can run a better ship than me, got it?” 

“Yes, Cap’n,” Kraglin nodded, scratchin’ his neck. “Whereabouts you fellas goin’?” 

“...Got somethin’ to deal with,” Yondu said with a shrug. Kraglin narrowed his eyes but nodded, and the Centaurian clapped him on the shoulder. “I best have a ship t’come back to, Kraglin.” 

“You will, sir. I’ll shoot down any mutineers ‘fore they can think t’mutiny.” 

Yondu grinned, pattin’ his shoulder and turning to walk up the ramp into the ship. He punched a button, the ramp foldin’ closed behind him. Once Kraglin was out of the docking bay, Yondu started up the M-ship and entered in the code to open the bay doors, dropping out of the _Eclector_ weightlessly. 

It was as they were flyin’ to the jump point that he finally told Oblo what was goin’ on. 

“Yer brother went back to yer old ship, two years back,” he said, keepin’ an eye on the screens lit up around him. Quill was somewhere around the back, barely paying any attention; but Oblo was beside him, lookin’ out the windows and frowning. 

“I remember – he asked me t’go back with.” 

“I _told_ ya to – ignorin’ both of us now, Oblo?” 

Oblo smiled, and Yondu rolled his eyes. He glanced at the distance to the jump, flicked a switch, and punched in the coordinates for the waitin’ M-ship. 

“Yer old captain contacted me. Told me he’d died.” 

Oblo froze, and Yondu pushed them through the jump. They were in front of a green and yellow planet with rings around it. Yondu made their way towards the surface of the planet; gliding through the rings of dust and rock with ease. 

“There’s an M-ship waitin’ fer us. Don’t got our colours, so we’ll blend in. We’ve been invited t’the funeral.” 

Oblo said nothing for a long while. Just before they broke through atmo, the Krylorian turned to him. 

“Is this safe, Captain?” 

“Safe as I can make it,” Yondu said. Oblo turned to glance back at Quill, and the Centaurian snorted. “I ain’t an angel, boy, but I’m not gonna use kids as leverage. Took ‘im with us ‘cause he don’t listen to nobody else but me on the goddamn ship.” 

Oblo nodded; it was true enough. They landed on the ground nearby an M-ship in different colours than the _Warbird_. Yondu eyed it, before powerin’ down. Oblo stepped away, heading towards the ramp. After a minute, Quill ran up to Yondu. 

“Hey, Yondu, where are we?” 

“Planet called Novarus,” he said, standing up and crackin’ his back. “Keep close t’me now, Quill; an’ if you see anyone who ain’t Oblo an’ me, I want ya to hide. Got it?” 

“Why?” 

“ _Got it_?” 

Quill flinched and glared up at Yondu, before he nodded. He grabbed onto the coattails of his leathers, then, and Yondu rolled his eyes but didn’t shake him off. 

They stepped out of the Warbird, walkin’ over to the M-ship sittin’ there innocently. Yondu pushed back his leathers a bit to free up the Yaka. Someone stepped out from beside the ship. 

Yondu whistled, the Yaka flicking up to hang, waiting, by his head; Oblo froze, hand on his gun, and Quill pressed hisself against the back of Yondu’s legs, practically holding his breath. 

A blue haired, vaguely jaundiced lookin’ humanoid held their hands up, looking at the two exiled Ravagers and the kid with a blank look. 

“My captain wished to ensure that the ones approaching this ship are the ones it was meant for.” 

“How d’you reckon we go about provin’ that?” 

“He asked to know the first words he ever said to you.” 

Yondu narrowed his eyes, one hand curled into a fist and the other pressed against Quill to keep him back. He wrinkled his nose. 

“Y’know damn well wha’ he said t’me.” 

“Maybe. Do _you_?” 

Yondu scowled, baring his teeth at the other Ravager. Charlie-27’s crewmember merely stared back, waitin’ for his answer. He snarled. 

“He told me ain’t nothin’ gon’ take me back. Now fuck off.” 

The Ravager looked at him long and hard, and then nodded. They left without another word, probably to wherever their own ship was hidin’. Yondu blew out a breath, looked around once more to be sure they were actually alone, and then pushed Quill forward, makin’ their way towards the M-ship. 

“Let’s get goin’,” he said as he passed Oblo. Oblo jerked, followin’ after his captain silently. 

~+~

“Yondu?” 

“Wha’ is it boy?” 

Quill sat in co-pilot’s seat, watching as they slowly joined the formation of M-ships surroundin’ a seemingly empty bit of space. Oblo was standin’ back a bit, watchin’ it all with a quiet that he usually didn’t have. Yondu turned his attention back to the terran. 

“What’s happening?” 

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Yondu sighed and leaned back; keepin’ an eye on the larger ship that was positioned right across from them. If he squinted, he could almost imagine he could see Charlie-27 standing in front of the observation windows, gettin’ ready to give the command to start the send-off. 

“...S’a Ravager funeral, boy,” he said after a moment, folding his arms over his stomach and crossing his ankles; legs outstretched in front of him. “So keep quiet and pay yer goddamn respects.” 

“...It’s not at a graveyard?” 

Yondu blinked, lookin’ over at Quill. Quill was staring out at the stars, eyes wide. 

“Terrans still bury their dead?” Yondu rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Dunno ‘bout the rest of the galaxy, boy, but Ravagers – we belong out in the stars. Freest kind of free there is.” He scratched his chin, fingernails catching bristles. “So we take our dead an’ we release ‘em out where they belong. No headstones t’ferget about; no mounds of dirt to eat away at us. Just the stars and the colours.” 

“Colours?” 

Quill asked just as Charlie-27’s ship released a cloud of ashes into the black, and the ships around them – the colour guard, the honour guard – released the Jovian’s colours. Quill gasped, and Oblo stepped up behind Yondu’s seat, and they watched as one by one, each ship released an array of fireworks. Yondu glanced down at his console, then, noted a familiar button, and smirked. 

He leaned forward and pressed it. 

Colours burst forth from their own ship, sparking and twinkling just outside their window. Quill pressed hisself as close to the glass as he could, and Oblo swallowed thickly from where he stood before he punched his chest in the salute. 

“Wait up for me, you brat,” the Krylorian said. He turned and left, and Yondu didn’t call him back. 

The funeral lasted a little over an hour, the ships emitting colours for each member of the fallen – eighteen in all, and that was damn too many in Yondu’s eyes. Quill watched the whole thing with fascination, staying quiet throughout. It was only after everything was said and done that Yondu broke from formation, headin’ back down to the planet and the _Warbird_ that Quill spoke up again. 

“Do _all_ Ravager funerals look like that?” 

Yondu glanced at the kid from the corner of his eye, and thought about his own funeral one day. How the captains of the 99 factions would come together for a captain’s funeral, letting out their colours in an array of respect and love. 

How his funeral was probably going to be dark and bleak because, more likely than not, he was going to be taken down in a mutiny and left to rot out in the vacuum of space. 

He then sighed through his teeth and shrugged, lookin’ away from the kid again. 

“Yeah, li’l Quill – they’re all like that. But don’t go tryin’ to off yerself just so’s you can have a colourful funeral. Got it?” 

“I _wouldn’t_.” 

“Good.” 

~+~

As soon as the _Warbird_ was parked back in the _Eclector_ and powered down, Quill ran off without even a ‘by your leave’ to fuck knows where. Yondu and Oblo got out at a more leisurely pace. 

The Krylorian turned to his captain, then, lookin’ at him for a long time before punching his chest in the salute. Yondu eyed him, waitin’ to hear what he had to say. 

“...Thanks, Captain. For lettin’ me be part of that. I know it was probably dangerous, seeing as we ain’t exactly welcomed back with the Ravagers and all.” 

Yondu snorted, turnin’ away and picking at sharp, ragged teeth. “Weren’t nothin’ t’thank me fer, Oblo. Now get back to work, would’je? We’re on duty.” 

“Aye, Captain!” 

The younger man left and Yondu slowly made his way back to his quarters. He tossed his leathers to his chair as soon as the door clanged shut behind him, makin’ his way to his bed and pickin’ up the abandoned datapad from before. 

He noticed the blinking light and frowned. 

Walkin’ over to his desk, he pressed the button, and a video message came up over the window, once more blockin’ the light of the stars outside. Charlie-27’s face appeared. 

“My first mate tells me that you look well, old friend,” the Jovian said, a smile on his face. Yondu narrowed his eyes. “Though you are still as prickly as ever. He also told me about the boy.” 

Here, Charlie-27 paused, and Yondu sucked on his tongue and waited out the recorded silence. 

“I will not say whether or not you did right by that boy, Yondu. But I am glad you are trying, all the same. May we meet again in a happier time.” 

The call ended, and Yondu relaxed, droppin’ into the seat with a graceless _thud_. He looked back down at his datapad, saw a message with an attachment, and selected it. 

Glancin’ over the words, narrowing his eyes, the Centaurian snorted and grinned to hisself. 

“Interferin’ jackass,” he muttered. He then accepted the job, standin’ back up and grabbing his leathers to head back to the bridge. 

“Never could leave well enough alone.”


End file.
